


Breaking News: Billionaire's Kidnapping Bungled

by cattyk8



Series: Clark Kent Reports [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Bruce Wayne Is Extra, Bruce Wayne is a living meme, Bruce Wayne sells newspapers, Brucie Wayne - Freeform, Fluff and Humor, Humor, Kidnapping, M/M, News Media, Newspapers, media fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-10-04 10:42:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17303132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cattyk8/pseuds/cattyk8
Summary: The Joker’s henchmen are in dire need of funds. They decide the easiest way to get some is to kidnap billionaire Brucie Wayne and hold him for ransom. Spoiler: It doesn’t go as planned. Clark Kent reports.





	Breaking News: Billionaire's Kidnapping Bungled

“You know,” Clark observes as he pours an ungodly amount of maple syrup over the stack of pancakes Alfred set down in front of him one sunny Tuesday morning, “you’ve been home early for seven days in a row now. That’s got to be a record or something!”

“Hnn.”

“The only rogues not in Arkham are Penguin and the Riddler,” Dick pipes up, pouring almost as much maple syrup over his pancakes as Clark did. “And the Riddler got out just two weeks ago, but he never makes a move until he’s got a solid base and a workable plan, which usually takes him at least a month.”

Clark smiles. “I’m always amazed at how well the two of you track the behavior of so many of Gotham’s criminals.”

Dick ducks his head bashfully. “It’s mostly B’s doing,” he says, though his cheeks are bright red with pleasure. “Mostly I study up on his files and profiles. They’re really, really thorough.”

Having prevailed on Bruce to profile some of his own enemies in the past only to be presented with veritable bibles on each of his rogues, Clark nods in understanding. “They’re a bit overwhelming when you’re not used to it, but all the data is really useful and helps you predict what a villain is likely to do.”

Dick smirks, reaching for the maple syrup once more when he finds the center of his pancake stack dry. “Can you imagine if Batman ever decided to turn evil? What kind of villain do you think he’d be?”

“The kind who reminds you that while Clark’s teeth may be invulnerable to cavities, yours are not,” Bruce says. _His_ pancakes are devoid of syrup and instead are lathered with sugar-free peanut butter and topped with slices of banana.

Dick leaves the maple syrup where it is with a regretful look. “Say, it’s been a while since the Joker busted out of Arkham.” He knocks three times on the wooden surface of the breakfast table as he says it. Clark knows it’s a habit he’s picked up somewhere—the circus, probably, as neither Bruce nor Alfred hold by such superstitions.

“He broke his leg before getting sent in the last time. He’s probably just laying low until it’s better.”

Dick smirks. “You mean _you_ broke his leg.”

“Hnn.”

“That’s a good thing, right?” Clark asks, polishing off the last of his pancakes. Super eating is one of the powers Superman doesn’t brag about. “Things should be quiet, barring another breakout at Arkham or Blackgate.”

“Bite your tongue—don’t jinx it,” Dick says. “Or at least knock on wood when you say it.”

Clark suppresses the urge to smile, raps his knuckles gently on the tabletop. “Sorry.” He drains the last of his cup of joe, which he’s doctored with milk and sugar in a way Bruce has declared absolutely disgusting and anathema to anything resembling real coffee. Then he leans over to brush his lips against his boyfriend’s. “I’d better get ready to go to work.”

“Hnn.”

“Will I see you for dinner?”

“Yes, before patrol. I have a meeting with Lucius about some modifications to the car—”

“The Batmobile,” Dick interjects.

“Which should provide better aerodynamic support and integrate additional safety features,” Bruce continues blithely.

Clark smiles and reaches over to ruffle his hair. “You know I’m all for keeping you as safe as possible.”

“Hnn.”

He heads back up toward the master bedroom to don his suit—or, rather, his suits, including the one he wears under the oversized off-the-rack fare Lois and his other colleagues at the _Planet_ are always making fun of, the ones that occasionally make Alfred’s heart stutter (he’s Superman, he hears the change every time the butler sees to the laundry).

As he changes at superspeed, he keeps an ear on the conversation between Bruce and his ward. “You know,” Dick is saying with a note of humor in his voice Clark doesn’t trust at all, “it’s been a while since you last were kidnapped. Don’t wanna lose your Guinness World Record as the guy who’s survived the most kidnapping attempts, do you?”

“Don’t you usually knock on wood when you say things like that.”

Dick’s peal of laughter and Bruce’s amused grunt ensure Clark leaves for work with a smile on his face.

He’s not smiling three hours later when the tracker in Bruce’s watch starts beeping, indicating the man has been kidnapped or is under threat of being kidnapped yet again. Still, these happen with enough regularity that Clark sits rigidly at his desk, resisting the urge to fly in despite his boyfriend’s no-metas-in-Gotham edicts. He doesn’t relax until Bruce mutters a few key phrases to indicate all is clear.

He wonders, though, at the fact that it only takes a little over an hour.

“Chief, there’s a story brewing in Gotham! Bruce Wayne got himself kidnapped—”

“That’s not a story, Kent. That’s a goddamn fact of life. It’s like saying the sky is blue or Superman wears his underwear on the outside.”

“Well, he was released in under two hours. Naked. In a park.”

Perry White, editor-in-chief of the _Daily Planet_ , rolls his eyes. “Fine. Take Olsen. Make sure there are pictures. Naked Brucie always sells papers.” As Clark leaves the bullpen, he hears his boss mutter, “And ain’t that another goddamn fact of life.”

 

* * *

 

**Breaking News: Billionaire's Kidnapping Bungled—**  
**Criminals Blame Brucie!**

by Clark Kent

GOTHAM CITY—Billionaire Bruce Wayne was abducted as he was entering Wayne Tower shortly after 11AM today. Eyewitnesses report Gotham’s favorite son was snatched by the Joker’s henchmen, hit over the head with what appeared to be a giant rubber chicken, and thrown into a bright purple van with green spray paint spelling the word “HAHA” on both sides.

Bruce Wayne is the president emeritus of Wayne Enterprises’ board of trustees and a noted philanthropist. At 28, he also holds the Guinness World Record for most number of kidnappings reported; as such, his personal security team was quickly able to take action to retrieve the billionaire, who recently gained internet fame after serving as a bridesmaid at the wedding of a friend and former flame. [Related: [“Bridesmaids, Beyoncé, and Bruce Wayne”](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16420676) by Clark Kent]

Wayne was found unharmed, if undressed, in Robinson Park less than two hours after his reported abduction. His kidnappers were rounded up by Batman and Robin and left dangling from a streetlamp outside Gotham City Police Department headquarters later that evening.

When asked about his ordeal, Wayne, known as Brucie to the media and to his fans, appeared irritated. “They were the most incompetent kidnappers I have ever had to deal with,” the last scion of the Wayne legacy reported. “I had to show them how to cuff me, and the things still fell off my wrists cause the imbeciles didn’t lock them tight enough. Then the idiots thought they would send a ransom note with proof of life, except the newspaper they were going to take my photo with wasn’t even from this week! _And_ it wasn’t even a Gotham rag, it was the _Daily Planet_ , can you imagine? In _Gotham_? Like they couldn’t have picked up a _Gazette_ for $2.50 from a newsstand? Where’s the pride, I ask you? Where’s the pride?”

The Gothamite seemed further incensed by his kidnappers’ decision to “lowball” his ransom at $1 million. “I give that much away to charities in a week,” Wayne was heard saying with a distinct note of scorn. “I mean, I would’ve paid them that much to just leave me alone, with my clothes on. And that’s another thing. What kind of crook doesn’t know how to frisk a hostage? They made me take off my _clothes_. My butler was so _pissed_. Apparently it was a Brioni he’d just had flown in from London.

“At least they left me my boxers. I would’ve been pissed to lose these.” Upon speculation that being divested of his underwear would no doubt have been a very uncomfortable experience, the billionaire shook his head. “Oh, it’s just that they were a gift from a very dear friend of mine.”

Although the GCPD was quick to respond to reports that the billionaire had been spotted—in sky blue boxers sporting an alternating pattern of peaches and ducklings on them—at Robinson Park, they were not first on scene. By the time the police taskforce, headed by none other than Commissioner James Gordon himself, arrived, the paparazzi and bystanders had crowded around the billionaire, who was found sitting on a park bench on the banks of the reservoir, feeding the swans.

“I was minding my own business and having my lunch when he sat down and asked to use my cell phone so he could call his butler,” a witness, who requested to remain unnamed, reported. “I mean, why he called his butler and not the cops, I don’t know, but the guy is, like, made of chill or something. It was like he didn’t know Twitter was blowing up with news of his kidnapping, ‘cause he dialed a number and when someone—I guess his butler—picked up, he said, ‘Alfred, I’ll need a limo and a new suit at Robinson Park, on the lake, near the swans. Please tell Lucius I’ll be a little late for my meeting this afternoon.’ Cool as you please, just like that. I tell ya, the guy’s got some kind of super zen or he’s really that much of an idiot.”

When offered the witness’s coat to cover his state of undress, the billionaire evidently declined, but haggled instead for the man’s lunch. “He just asked for my sandwich, said his butler would pay me for it when he arrived. And, yeah, I handed it over. Cause, like, I knew he was good for it, y’know? But the guy didn’t even eat it! He used it to feed the f**king swans, saying he had to distract them from trying to eat his boxers, like he thought the birds would think the baby ducks and the peaches were real or something.

“Although, to be honest, if I was built like Brucie, I’d be flaunting what I got too. Even those scars he got are kinda sexy. I mean, I always thought polo was kind of a sissy sport, but I guess it gets kinda dangerous if it leaves scars like _that_ on him. Not that I was staring or anything.”

As of reporting time, photos of Wayne in his boxers have gone viral on the internet, with the hashtag #BruciesBoxers trending globally on Twitter. The underwear in question were a novelty item from a Gotham-based boutique called Tighty Non-Whities which has, according to its Instagram, sold out of the now-iconic “Peaches and Peckers” design.

 _I thought #BridesmaidBrucie was hot, til I saw #BruciesBoxers_ , @GotGirlNJ commented while sharing a video she had taken of Wayne sans clothing.

 _Damn, I’ve never been jealous of waterfowl before. #FeedMeBrucie #BruciesBoxers_ was another tweet shared by Gotham reporter Vicki Vale, alongside a video of Bruce tossing bits of his sandwich to a bevy of swans.

Wayne’s butler, Alfred Pennyworth, arrived shortly after the police, whereupon Wayne was heard to pronounce, “I’m in deep s**t now, my British butler brought a suit, and it’s _American_.” GIFs of the billionaire’s horrified face with the caption “It’s American” have also gone viral along with the hashtag #ItsAmerican.

Wayne was allowed to change into the Ralph Lauren bespoke suit before giving the police his statement, which was taken on site rather than at the station.

“We make an exception for Mr. Wayne,” Gotham commissioner James Gordon told this reporter when asked about the breach in normal kidnapping protocol. “These kidnappings occur so regularly, along with assorted other crimes, it’s a tedious business to require him to appear at the station simply to give his statement—he’d be here every week, otherwise.”

When prompted, the commissioner admitted that Wayne is the target of a kidnapping or kidnapping attempt on an average of once a month and is present during a hostage situation almost as often. The Wayne Estate is also a popular target for attempted robbery.

“Galas in Gotham,” one Gotham detective who prefers to remain unnamed explained it. “And Brucie goes to all of them.”

The same detective confirmed that the alleged kidnappers, all of whom are past associates of the Gotham-based supervillain known as the Joker, lodged several complaints against the victim after their arrest. “Guess they didn’t know it’s not a crime to insult your kidnappers while you are being kidnapped. They claimed they only wanted enough money to ‘tide them over’ until the Joker got out of Arkham and they would be ‘back in business.’”

It was also confirmed that the kidnappers ended up letting the billionaire out of the van of their own volition. “Way I heard it,” said an associate of another Gotham villain who was in central booking at the same time as the kidnappers, “after an hour, those idiots would’ve paid Wayne to let them go, they were so sick of his yammering.”

Wayne later agreed to speak with this reporter on the matter. “The loss of the suit was very distressing for my butler. And there is much to be said for criminal stupidity, if they required _me_ to teach them how to properly conduct my own kidnapping. I mean, really! If it weren’t so tedious and, you know, illegal, _I’d_ be a supervillain. It doesn’t seem very difficult, except for the number of idiots you’d have to deal with.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Of course, a statement like that from a grown man who willingly invites people to call him Brucie are their own punchlines,” Lois decides after reading Clark’s article the next morning.

“There’s more to him than meets the eye,” Clark says.

His writing partner just rolls her eyes. “Smallville, I know you’ve got some weird pseudo-friendship going on, or he likes treating you like his pet reporter or something, but you gotta admit the guy’s a couple crystals short of a snowflake.”

“Aww, he’s not that bad, Lois. Besides, he’s our boss.”

Another eyeroll. “He’s president emeritus of the company that owns the _Planet_. At 28 years old. President. _Emeritus_. You know what that means?”

Clark pushes his glasses up his nose, even though they have not slid down even a fraction of an inch since he put them on this morning. “That he’s retired as president but still fulfills some of the duties? I mean, he’s a really busy guy.”

“Smallville, are you for real?”

“I mean, he has a kid to take care of now. I can see why he would step down as president.” Clark smiles goofily. “And to quote another president quoting the scripture, ‘Everyone shall sit under their own vine and fig tree—’” He sings the line and would continue, except that Lois rolls up the newspaper in her hand and hits him over the head with it. “Ow!”

“Four things, Smallville.” Lois raises her hand, showing him three fingers, then proceeds to fold them down as she ticks off items verbally.

“One, did you seriously just compare _Brucie Wayne_ to one of our Founding Fathers?” _Well, he’s one of the founding members of the new Justice League you gushed about all over the front page the other day_.

“Two, _Hamilton_ is way too smart a musical for Brucie. You should maybe start him on Barney or maybe Dora the Explorer.” Clark frowns, remembering how Bruce and he had watched the musical together—twice incognito, so he wouldn’t have to put on a show, and once in their civilian personas because Bruce had wanted to introduce Clark to the show’s creator, Lin-Manuel Miranda, as a birthday present—and spent hours talking about the brilliance of its lyrics, staging, impact on society, and so forth. Not to mention the debates it had sparked on American history and culture.

“Three, he’s president emeritus because they wanted to retire him before his cluelessness sent Wayne Enterprises stocks into a dive. I mean, the guy’s basically a show poodle—they dress him up pretty, fluff out his hair, and show off his bloodlines when they need to, and that’s about all he’s good for.” Clark winces, thinking of how Batman had saved his and several other League members from certain death not two weeks ago.

“And finally,” Lois finishes by forming a fist and mock-punching Clark in the shoulder, “no singing in the bullpen, Kent.”

“Ow!” he says belatedly, rubbing his arm. “I just think you’re underestimating the guy, Lois.”

She throws up her arms. “Fine. And I’ll concede that you know him better than I do—you interview him often enough! But, Clark, let’s get real. The guy might be from Gotham, but he’s certainly no Batman.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to [Dino_Cattivo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dino_Cattivo/) for hosting the sprint storm that had me writing this fic in one evening, and the other SBB folks who joined in and cheered us along. I’d been planning this fic shortly after posting the first fic in this series, [“Bridesmaids, Beyoncé, and Bruce Wayne,”](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16420676) but kept getting distracted by other things. And thank you to the amazing [Holdt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Holdt) for beta reading and providing invaluable feedback on certain details!


End file.
